


Mutual Weaknesses Turned Into Strengths

by Waistcoat35



Category: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (2018), The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows
Genre: Epistolary, Fluff, Humour, Multi, Post-Canon, Wedding, probably more of these to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 18:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35
Summary: A letter, from Juliet to Sophie. Flowers, falling over and quite a few feelings.





	Mutual Weaknesses Turned Into Strengths

Dear Sophie,

The wedding was absolutely splendid. I feel it was one of the best days of my life – besides the first time I came to stay over for the summer. (And the time with the nanny goat and that newspaper boy that Sidney had always taken a liking to, but he’s made me promise never to mention it in public again lest I further damage his _romantic prospects_. I haven’t the heart to tell him he probably hasn’t any now that he's hit 42.) Kit was our flower girl, but I believe Eli had to stop her from prancing down the aisle sprinkling the heads of the huge bouquet you sent - I'm still laughing at the idea she might have looked at the small box of dried rose petals Isola provided and decided that they weren't quite up to scratch for the job. I grow fonder of her antics every second I am here to witness them, and instead of feeling the sudden pang of remembering that I must at some point leave, never again to see her and everybody else, I can have the constant joy of realising and re-realising that I'm here to stay. For good. 

Do you think I should send an apology basket to Miss Addison? It must be terribly hard for her, knowing that her every attempt to keep me from visiting fell flat, and that I've made my nest here. Not to mention that I wrote a book about Elizabeth. I shall give her one of Isola's Eglantine, Elderflower and Cranberry Surprise tonics; they're supposed to help with grief. (As long as you don't ask her what the surprise is. I imagine that gives you one more thing reason to worry about.)

I cannot thank you enough for the flowers – they were wonderful, and those that aren’t being pressed by Kit and Amelia or saved for some elixir or other by Isola are in a vase on my writing desk. Every time I go to use the typewriter, as I bow my head over it they brush over my hairline and tickle my nose. This would prove to be a hindrance after a while, but the way Kit giggles when they make me sneeze and how Dawsey will smile so you can see the laughter in his eyes make it more of a blessing in disguise.

(His favourites are the heliotropes – he thinks that I haven’t noticed, but he runs a gentle thumb over the tiny blossoms, and the brightest purple ones mingle perfectly with his jumper when Kit weaves a spring into the wool at his chest. They’re beautiful, and their meaning suits – devotion and faithfulness. I believe Sidney described him to you using similar vocabulary, didn’t he? But personally – I look at the Amaryllis and remember that summer after I met the florist’s nephew’s cousin who visited in the holidays, and how I spent forever poring over that ridiculous newspaper article about the language of flowers. I can still picture trailing my finger down the column. Perhaps you can, as well.

_Amaryllis – Timidity, Pride, Splendid Beauty._

How I longed for a bunch for my wedding day! Now I am hoping that they were because you remembered that summer. And angelica for inspiration – I’ll be sure to keep a pressed one on my desk now. Isola believes such things can help greatly, but I don’t believe that inspiration is what I need any more; since the wedding, half my time has been spent writing and making French Toast. The first is a less solitary activity than before, the second is something I’d prefer to be more of a solo mission – yesterday one of the pigs got inside and had finished off half the bread before we managed to wrestle him out. (After breakfast was finished, we looked out of the window to find Kit feeding him part of her piece - so he wouldn't feel left out. I laughed so hard I had to lean back against Dawsey's shoulder; I have no shame in admitting I didn't move after I'd stopped laughing. )

As much as I loved the flowers and as lovely as Isola looked in her home-made Bridesmaid's dress, I have realised that I have yet to tell you of the best surprise of the day. 

You see, when he came back to Guernsey to be my best man, Sidney didn't come alone. 

Isola ran down to the docks to meet him for me - he was on a later plane than planned and I'd have happily done it myself, but I'm afraid Amelia wouldn't let me out of the door in that dress. According to her, if I hadn't muddied it up completely I'd have tripped up on it and ended up in the sea. Although probably not two thousand leagues under, as Eli put it. (Hopefully only a few - then Dawsey could jump in and rescue me. Mind you, if I were in my wedding dress I suppose he wouldn't be allowed to see me before the ceremony, would he? Never mind. I'd have to hitch the thing up and swim for it, I suppose.)

Please forgive my rambling - onto the surprise. 

I'm dearly hoping Sidney hasn't already told you - but maybe he anticipated how I like to hoard all of the interesting information to tell for myself. When they reached Amelia's back garden with minutes to spare, Sidney was leading rather than Isola - who was busy following behind him arm-in-arm with none other than a rather windswept Piers, talking his ear off. I have to admit that I shed a tear or two, Sophie - it's been almost eight years since I've seen him, after all. And he was such a good friend - I longed to resume our correspondence when we heard he'd been found. 

I briefly managed to break loose from Amelia's guard, rushing to meet them down the path. Granted, I tripped on the hem and went sprawling into Sidney's arms, but I didn't break any legs - his nor mine. Once I'd recovered myself I moved on to sprawling into Piers' arms, a considerably harder feat given the height difference between him and Sidney, despite his stockier build. He quirked one eyebrow, the intended effect of the gesture marred slightly by the disarray his hair was in, and had I turned around I probably would've found Sidney swooning, being held up by Isola. 

"Honestly, Juliet. Falling for another man - on your wedding day, no less!" Piers was jolly pleased with himself, I ought to tell you. It was altogether different from the impish look he wore when I first spotted him from Amelia's back door - eight years and he decides to show up again with a witty jab and an expression like a cat who's got the custard. I can't tell you how much I still adore him. (Neither can Sidney. They were holding drinks and grinning at each other for the entirety of the reception, and as the hour grew later and Eben put on the record player I caught them swaying to Clydene Jackson's 'Day by Day'. Isola practically had stars in her eyes.) 

I've just now realised that as much as I've told you about everybody else's wedding exploits, I have yet to tell you of my own. Sidney walked me down the aisle as promised, and Piers stood at the makeshift altar (a henhouse with some lace curtains on top of it, and very charming it looked indeed) with Isola to wait for him. Eben had to practically shove Dawsey forwards, because as I walked down he couldn't seem to stop merely watching and grinning. I told you the shyness was merely a ploy for sympathy, didn't I? Or did you tell me? 

Aside from that, there is little much else to tell - what's the good in my telling you of vows and weak knees and eyes reflecting everything you've always longed for and putting it right in front of you? You've had your wedding. You know all of it. And I hope you agree - how funny it is, to insist on further binding one another together when you are already so intertwined with one another, heart and soul. It is the final baring of the throat to another, the final signing over of all your vulnerability to one another. The final way to say - thank you for sharing your weaknesses, and making them my own so that we can turn them into strengths. That probably makes little sense - but I'm in love, so nobody expects me to. Another of endless perks. 

I will be sure to keep you informed of everybody's exploits,

love, 

Juliet. 

P.S - Clara Saussey made the wedding cake! It wasn't easy to persuade her to do it - we took a card and a new recipe book and Isola included a note apologising for all she had said and done while under the influence of hunger. We had to grovel. 

 


End file.
